Thor's gaze lifted and turned to Sif through the window where he rose from his seat to go meet her. It was slow as if time had been slowed for the blond man, his gait long but shuddering like he couldn't take another step. Opening the door, Sif's fiance stepped into the moon's glow on the front stoop and held an arm out to her in greeting expecting a hug and embrace.
"Welcome back, Lady Sif," he said in that deep, rumbling voice. It wavered, unsure, fearful, tired. There was that ache in his throat that one has when they're trying not to cry, trying to hold back emotion that was too powerful. "How was your journey?" He hoped she brought back better news than his own excursions had revealed. Thor had torn through the woods seeking the source, sure it would be a sorcerer of some kind. Never had he considered his brother the cause of this trouble.
Loki would never use their mother in such a way, this he was sure.